Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
by nickyfullmetal
Summary: Draco Malfoy presents Hermione Granger with his last wish.  Doubtful and worried, she accepts.
1. A Day in the Life

**Warning : This story may cause you to tear while binging on ice cream. **

**I don't own any of HP characters or any songs by the Beatles. Though I wish I did.**

**Enjoy. **

****

* * *

><p><p>

**Chapter 1 : A Day in the Life**

Hermione Granger sat at her desk, humming happily as she filled another report about the mistreatment of magical creatures; she knew this time she would get those sadistic bustards, who abused House Elves, behind bars. With a sharp movement of her wrist she dipped her quill in the glittering ink, and wrote the conclusion and recommendation on how to treat those who are guilty of such crimes. She had worked her way up at the ministry ranks during the past ten years, and now held a very respected, influencing position, allowing her to alter all the wrongs she swore to correct when she was an adolescent.

The sun shone brightly outside her office, the birds were singing and the wind whistled a cheerful melody; it was one of these days where nothing can go wrong, Hermione felt as if a cheering charm was casted on her. She almost hopped to the cafeteria to grab a cup of coffee when she bumped into Harry, who demanded her presence for dinner that evening; Ginny and the kids were missing her. She was so joyful that even thoughts of Ron had not corrupted her mood; she was not upset over their ugly breakup, not jealous for the family he had started with another woman. She was content as everything in her life seemed to fall in the right place.

An ominous looking raven awaited her at the office when she returned, and not recognizing its owner she wryly took the letter it held. If Hermione was not a composed, self controlled woman she would probably drop her cup of coffee on the floor, creating a sticky brown pool on her fancy white carpet. Of course, she was not composed and stoic all of her life; she was quite hysteric in her youth, but the war effected her. Facing death each day changed her perspectives, caused her to develop a solid composure not easily unsettled and improved her abilities to deal with surprising situations to the point of near perfection. The thirty year old Hermione was nothing like the anxious know-it-all she had been in school.

Her eyes moved frantically across the letters, suddenly doubting her ability to form them correctly into sensible words, but the green ink passed a clear message. She sighed, her eyebrows furrowed and the angles of her mouth pulled down, writing a response. She would rather spend a lovely evening with Harry and Ginny but it seemed like she would have to cancel, her cursed curiosity making the decision for her. She collapsed into her comfortable chair, memories of the past popping in her mind, taking her so many years back. She was not unnerved by hearing from him after all these years, that what she had told herself, it was just shockingly surprising.

She tried to return to her reports, but the rest of them did not seem to go so smoothly as the previous ones, and a chill ran through her body as the clouds hid the sun behind a grey wall of dolefulness. She had to jump and catch the flying papers before it would land as a mess on the floor when the wind stormed into her office with an agonized moan. The birds were not singing anymore. She sighed heavily and took a last sip of her coffee, so much for a day where nothing goes wrong.

She left her office a few hours later; the sky was already dark and the air was chilly, even though it was barely autumn. She made her way to the park near the ministry searching with her eyes for a certain someone; he was easy to spot, even after all those years. She saw him sitting on one of the benches, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes locked on a certain point in the horizon, lost in thoughts. He was just the same but nothing alike all at once, and she could feel the difference from thirty feet away.

He jumped to his legs when he noticed her coming by; beyond his obnoxious approach he hid prefect manners his mother had taught him. He was as lean and handsome as she remembered, radiating that aristocratic arrogance with every fiber of his being and yet, something was off, like a light that was shut down inside of him.

"Malfoy." Hermione said dryly, her lips pressed tightly. She still held some ancient grudge against him, a hint of hostile mistrust like many of her friends still felt. She never accepted the claim that as cruel and corrupted as Draco Malfoy was, he was a victim of sorry consequences and had his fair share of suffering and lost like all of them did.

"Granger," he said snidely, giving her an invasive look, and she was comforted by the notion he was still the git she had known years ago. But the comfort shortly disappeared when he spoke again, "I'm glad you came. Would you take a walk with me?" he said in a charming voice she had never heard him use, especially not towards her.

Caught off guard she managed to let out a formal, "Certainly," and he linked their arms, walking her through the breathtaking magical gardens. They walked in silence for what seemed like eternity, enough time for her to get used to his close presence and to lose the unease that plagued her in the beginning. They stopped in front of the lake, watching the moon reflected on its calm water, he had let go of her arm and instead shoved his hands into his pockets, looking almost uncertain in a Malfoy scale.

"You probably wonder why I had asked to see you." He said quietly, looking ahead of them. He was distant, which was not surprising, but after the temporary closeness they shared, it was almost saddening.

"I do." She confirmed his suspicions.

"I must ask you first that the content of our conversation would remain private," he said while turning his grey eyes to watch her.

"If you want me to get you out of trouble since I work at the ministry…" Hermione said, very much annoyed but he did not let her finish.

"It is nothing of that sort." He promised her, "Surely I have enough connections in the ministry and I would never dream of asking for your help." His voice was icy and somewhat accusing. For a moment she was ashamed of thinking he would ask her to do such thing.

"If so, this conversation will remain confident," Hermione said in a firm voice.

He was silent for a moment, struggling upon finding the right words. He looked very tired suddenly, his pale skin almost transparent and his eyes closed for a second. He linked their arms again and guided her to a nearby bench, sitting down beside her, not close enough to make her uncomfortable and not far enough to seem like he was afraid of infection. He appeared to be relieved when they sat, as if the long stroll along the park had left him drained of energy, which was odd because Hermione remembered him to be quite the athlete when they were younger.

"I wish to settle any dispute we might had in the past, before it's too late." He finally uttered.

"Too late?" she raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I'm dying." He stated emotionlessly and she gasped invulnerably, her eyes widening. "It took St. Mungo's forever to discover what was wrong with me, because I had a Muggle disease. The irony," he added with a tainted smirk, and she could not help but smile back.

"What do you have?" she asked, somewhat dreadful of the answer, though she really did not know why she was worried about Malfoy. She guessed it was one of those things that shook you even if it happened to your worst enemy.

"Cancer." He said dryly, "They diagnosed it too late, and it had spread." He informed her, avoiding eye contact, "I was thinking about suing their asses for medical malpractice, but another million Galleons would not help me when I'm dead," he said darkly and Hermione chuckle at his twisted humor.

"I'm sorry it happened to you," she said, honestly, not out of sheer politeness.

"Do go all Saint Potter on me," he barked, "I know you have despised me for many years, and rightfully so." He paused, watching her expression and she nodded approvingly, "However, I still have some time left to change your opinion of me."

"Why would you bother to do that?" Hermione questioned, "I could think of better things to do just before I die other than asking forgiveness from my foes."

He smirked at her in a very characteristic way which strangely soothed her. "You were never exactly my foe," he admitted, "I only disliked the fact that you were hanging with Potter and the redhead sidekick." He remarked and Hermione made an angry face, "I was actually rather…obsessed with you when we were in Hogwarts and your constant appearance in media and fast promotion in the ministry had always kept you in my mind, all these years," he said reluctantly, and she could feel herself blushing, "You are one of the few women I truly respect and thus I thought would be worthy of my last moments."

"That is a shocking discovery," Hermione said with a calm voice, "Quite complementing as well."

"Well, don't get too flustered over it," Malfoy cooled down her excitement, "It's only the weakness of a dying man."

She chuckled at his comment, somewhat glad that he had not lost his sharp edge. Suddenly the dimness that shadowed him, the gloomy aura was making sense; she thought he was handling the situation quite bravely.

"How are you planning to change the way I view you?" Hermione questioned, turning her head to look at his profile, admiring the strong line of his jaw.

"By spending time with you." He replied simply, looking back at her. And then she noticed one dramatic change in him; his arrogance gracefully transformed into an inborn, cool confidence. "Are you free tomorrow night?"

She was surprised by his straightforwardness; he was way too direct for a Slytherin, too honest for a Malfoy. "I don't have plans…" she admitted. Her life was pretty dull due to her very demanding work, and her picky choice of friends. She mainly associated with Harry and Ginny, and methodically avoided events that included Ron's company, so she spent many of her nights alone in her flat, with a good book. Not that she was complaining.

"Then dinner it is." He stated, with a cheeky smile, his face suddenly lighting up.

"Are Ron and Harry on your list as well?" curiosity took over her, imagining an encounter between them and Malfoy; it would probably end in a fist fight.

"No." he said, almost offended. She waited for him to give her a more detailed answer. "I really loathe them. We mutually mistreated each other, so I am free of guilt." He added, his eyes lingering on her in the most subtle way.

"I'm relieved," Hermione said with a tight smile, "If you said you were about to apologize to Ron, it would too much for me to handle."

"I think you have quite enough to handle as it is," Malfoy remarked, sounding cold and distant as he rose to his feet, "I admit it is more than challenging for me as well, being civil with you for so long," he said with a dark smirk, "I will owl you tomorrow," he promised, turned on his heels and walked away from her; his step was lighthearted, mollified as he moved further from her unnerving presence.

Hermione got off the bench, and looked around in wonder; could something even more bizarre happen to her? She dragged her legs around the park, pacing had always helped her to digest and accept new information, and she was way too shaken up to return to her flat. It took another hour of roaming the park before she was relatively settled and nearly ready to Apparate home. The next few months should be interesting.

**Let me know what you think :)**


	2. Fixing a Hole

**Here you go, another chapter.**

**I hope you would love the mature, more refined Malfoy as much as I do. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2 : Fixing a Hole<strong>

In a perfect timing Ginny walked into her office just as she finished reading a certain article regarding her next case, but she was not the only one to enter her office. A raven had also flown through her open window, she knew already who its owner was and carefully released the parchment tied to its leg. She replied while Ginny was curiously yet silently watching her and sent the Raven on his way back to his master a moment later.

"What was that?" Ginny asked with a mischievous smile, her eyes glittering.

"I'll tell you over lunch, you'd never believe me." Hermione replied, arranging the few papers at her desk before leaving the office. She needed everything to be orderly and in its exact place.

They sat down at the ministry cafeteria and Hermione glanced around to check nobody was eavesdropping; people at the ministry were very fond of gossiping. "Spill it out." The redhead demanded, while devouring her fried chicken.

"That was Draco Malfoy's Raven," Hermione said in a quiet voice.

"What had he gotten himself into, this time?" Ginny questioned, shaking her head.

"Nothing, surprisingly," Hermione remarked, stabbing a baked potato, "He requested to see me, and so I did. We met at the park nearby."

Ginny began to cough so severely Hermione considered calling a Healer or a Mediwitch. "You what? Why would you do it?" Ginny said when her coughing seizure calmed down.

"Sheer curiosity I guess." Hermione said pensively.

"And…?" Ginny motioned with her hand for her to continue.

"And it went shockingly well." Hermione said, recalling the previous night's events, "He was very civil. I did not feel like hexing him even once."

"Why did he wish to see you?" Ginny inquired, the new information making her even more unnerved.

"He wants to change my opinion of him." Hermione said, noticing how strange it sounded when she said it out loud.

"Why? Is he on his deathbed?" Ginny laughed and Hermione almost choked on her juice, astonished by how close to the truth Ginny's joke was.

"He asked me to keep his reasons private," Hermione said carefully, "There are quite…convincing."

"He isn't blackmailing you, the git, is he?" Ginny asked with her eyes narrowed, scanning Hermione suspiciously.

"No, he isn't." Hermione replied calmly.

"So he is the reason you did not come to see us yesterday," Ginny mentioned, sounding slightly offended.

"Indeed." Hermione confirmed, lowering her eyes in an apologetic way.

"You can make up for it by coming over for dinner," Ginny offered with a smile, "The kids miss you."

"I...Can't" Hermione uttered faintly, not daring to look at Ginny, "I just agreed to accompany him to dinner."

"He's bloody serious then, that prat," Ginny stated, amazed, "If that another sick stunt he's pulling on you I swear I'll…" Ginny threatened when Hermione cut her by resting her palm on Ginny's arm.

"He's serious." Hermione assured her. Deadly serious, she thought to herself, enjoying her witty joke.

"What was he like? Had he changed?" Ginny morphed her suspicion into healthy curiosity.

"I couldn't quite tell," Hermione admitted, "He was polite for over an hour, so he must have changed somewhat." She took another bit of her meal when she decided she was not hungry anymore, "he seemed to be carrying a heavy burden."

"I've heard the guilt of murdering and tutoring innocents during the war is quite straining," Ginny replied darkly.

"We don't really know what happened there, Ginny," Hermione came to his defense, not even sure why, "And they announced him innocent in the trail."

"I guess you can find out straight from the source." Ginny said grimly, poking her salad nervously.

"So how have you been lately?" Hermione changed the subject, "I heard Harry requested a vacation.

Ginny's faced lit up. "Yes, we are going to Swiss for two weeks; my mother will watch over the kids."

"You two deserve a vacation, from work and from parenting," Hermione smiled, "I really don't know how you handle it."

"It's not like I have a choice," Ginny smiled bitterly.

Evening came faster than she wished, she hurried back home to take a shower and change her clothes. Not that she wanted to impress Malfoy, but if they were going to eat out she should probably dress properly. She pointed her wand at her still dripping hair and mumbled a spell, causing the now dry hair to curl down elegantly; one of the only useful things she had learned from Lavender Brown. She zipped the black dress and studied her reflection in the mirror; it was fashionable but not too fancy, perfect for occasions such as this one. She had to thank Ginny for her superior shopping skills.

Wondering if she should put on some make up, she wore her shoes; she decided against it, she would not put so much effort in a date with Malfoy. And it was not even a date. She grabbed a long crimson trench coat and covered herself, sending a worried glance at the clock and Apparated to Diagon Alley, where she was supposed to meet Malfoy. Like the true gentleman he aspired to present himself, he was already there, leaning nonchalantly against the wall of Flourish and Blotts. It seemed like he knew exactly how to position himself so his body would look lithe and alluring and the light of the street lump would compliment his sharp features.

He straightened his pose when he noticed her, putting on a satisfied smirk, "Always a Gryffindor," he said almost mockingly, "Crimson suits you."

She tried not to blush, compliments from him were so odd and hard to accept. "I see you stick to house colors as well," she remarked, looking at his dark green blouse.

"Still a Slytherin," he replied with a grin, "I haven't changed that drastically." She gave him half a smile, though she really fought it and tried to look indifferent, but this new Malfoy was quite amusing. "Shall we?" he asked, offering her his hand.

She hesitantly took his hand and let him lead her to the restaurant; up till the previous night the only physical contact she had with Malfoy was punching him in their third year. This sudden closeness was very foreign and hard to adjust to, but she quickly regained her composure, determined to deal with it in the best possible way. He stopped in front of a small restaurant, modestly decorated and homely welcoming; very unlike Malfoy, a thought crossed her mind.

The hostess seemed familiar with him, and without a word a private table in a hidden corner was set for them; she almost laughed when he pulled her chair for her. She looked around seeing that the few people present at the restaurant gave them very blunt stares.

"Don't you fear to associate publically with me?" she voiced out her thoughts, "It might raise some questions.

"I pay a lot of money to keep my life private," he replied, sounding tired. "Are you ashamed of being seen with me?" he countered, eyeing her steadily.

"I not ashamed," Hermione replied slowly, "Though I might be required to give a few explanations…"

"You're old enough to associate with whoever you want without reporting." He remarked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's not reporting," his rephrasing annoyed her, "It's informing. And sharing information with friends has nothing to do with your age."

"Still hanging out with Potty and Weasel, I see." He said snidely, and if she was unsure it was Malfoy she was talking to a few moments before, now are her doubts were cleared.

"Still jealous and childish, I see," she replied viciously, her eyes glowing dangerously.

"Perhaps," he admitted, surprising her, "I always liked watching you when you're mad. This hadn't changed as well."

"So this is why you tried to turn my life into a living hell?" Hermione inquiring, picking up the menu.

"Among many other reasons," he answered vaguely. A moment later a waitress had come to take their orders; Hermione could smell her fear when she addressed Malfoy, he still had that cloud of authority around him that made people cringe. He turned to look at her after the waitress left with their orders, examining her features exhaustively; she felt almost naked under his eyes, without her coat to cover her.

"So you ended up as head of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures department," Malfoy drawled, "Predictable. Especially after your ridiculous struggle for the House Elves rights in Hogwarts…"

"What? You knew about it?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, suddenly very glad for the wine Malfoy ordered.

"As I mentioned last night, I was very aware of you during our school years," Malfoy remarked with a flirting smile, enjoying the blush that stained her cheeks.

"I believe I saw you at the ministry a few times," Hermione said calmly, regrouping, "What is your occupation?"

"I work for the department of Mystery," he said furtively.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, "Why would they let you work there? You're a Dea…" Hermione ceased talking, knowing she was out of line. She looked at him nervously only to see he was not even one bit angry, maybe slightly disappointed.

"May I remind that I was acquitted from all accusations," Malfoy said calmly, "And though I don't deny being a former Death Eater, apparently my argumentations were good enough for the Wizengamot to pardon me."

"Or your money was good enough…" Hermione spoke without thinking.

"I will ignore your rudeness, Granger" Malfoy said dryly, "since you are obviously ignorant to what had happen to me during the war."

"Enlighten me." She said firmly, leaning forward to listen.

"Maybe some other time," he said, waving his hand in dismissal, "I'd hate to ruin a pleasant dinner with a story like that."

Their dishes arrived soon after, and Hermione was glad he chose an Italian restaurant; the Ravioli she ordered was divine. She sent him glances every once in a while, observing the gracefulness of his movements, the way he used his cutlery and the gentility he ate with. She wanted to laugh when she compared it to Ron's clumsiness and lack of restraint.

"Do you find me amusing, Granger?" He inquired after wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. His mother did a fantastic job on him.

She blushed slightly for being caught staring. "No. I'm just …surprised."

"Care to explain?" he leaned back in his chair, putting his fork down.

"I just see a whole side of you I've never had a chance to know, since you hid it so well behind your repulsive attitude." Hermione said contemplating.

"It was a necessity, being a Malfoy obliges you to act a certain way. It was quite effective as a defense as well. Imagine how people would have exploited me if they knew how gentle my soul is." He grinned devilishly and Hermione felt herself smiling against her will. She was definitely not enjoying her time with him; that would be utterly impossible.

"I'm sure I wouldn't have taken advantage of you if I knew." Hermione smirked, realizing too late that she was flirting. He looked slightly astounded by her comment but quickly replied.

"Unfortunately, it's true. If anyone were to use me, I would have liked it to be you." Malfoy said, disporting, with an enchanting lopsided smile.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were flirting." Hermione took a sip from her wine, maintaining her coolness.

"If you weren't a Mudblood…" Malfoy countered, smirking as she glared at him furiously. "So many 'if's and very little answers…"

"I guess we would never find out." Hermione said firmly, still angry. He was not being offensive like he was at their school years, she could tell he was playful, but the stinging memories made her bitter nonetheless.

"Unless you intend on falling for me in the few months I'm left to live." He retorted teasingly, but she could tell he was rather morbid about the whole issue.

"Is that your intention?" Hermione asked, alert, straightening in her chair.

"Certainly not. I would never ruin my reputation when I'm so close to becoming a legend." He said smugly, eyeing her gallantly. Well, she thought, that was definitely the Malfoy she knew, no mistake there.

To sweeten her spite he offered her to share a dessert and she hesitantly agreed. She did not regret that decision as the soufflé turned to be heavenly and she made a mental note to asked Malfoy if she ever needed a recommendation for a good restaurant; that was something he was very capable of choosing. She did not dare argue when the bill arrived and he paid for both of them; for one, he gave her a deadly glare when she moved to fetch her purse. Secondly, the dinner cost a small fortune, quarter of her monthly salary, and she was being well paid.

They walked outside where the wind roared and the clouds threatened to pour rain any second and stood in silent, Hermione feeling slightly awkward. He was close to her, towering over her, his platinum hair blown in the wind creating a silver aura around his head. "It's being a surprisingly pleasant evening, Miss Granger," he broke the silence, smirking.

"As unbelievable as it may sound, I must agree with you." Hermione said, her lips pressed into a tight smile. "It's seems that I hold many prejudices against you, and I'm glad for this chance to get to know you."

He gave her a genuine smile, an action that completely changed the way he looked, almost as if he were a different person. "Then we should meet again. I heard there was an exquisite exhibition of Ancient Egypt culture in the British Museum. Would you like to accompany me?"

Hermione gaped dumbly. "Muggle…Muggle museum?"

"I've expanded my horizons." Malfoy replied cryptically, amused by her reaction.

It was Hermione's turned to smile genuinely. "I'd like to go with you, then."

"I'll contact you during this week," he assured her, "Good night, Granger," he wished her, with a slight nod of his head.

"Good night, Malfoy." She replied, watching him as he Disapparated, leaving her confused. If it was any other man, Hermione would be smiling foolishly and humming all the way home; he was intelligent, witty, good looking, interesting, many of the quality she sought for in a man. But he was Draco Malfoy.


	3. Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite

**I would appreciate if you reviewed, you know, tell me if you like where it's going. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 : Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite<strong>

"You did what?" Harry cried out, spitting bits of food everywhere as Hermione told him about her recent encounters while having Dinner at the Potter's place.

"I had dinner with Malfoy." Hermione repeated calmly, thinking Harry was slightly overreacting.

"That ferret boy Confundo'd you!" Harry declared, waving his fork up high in the air.

"Relax Harry dear," Ginny said soothingly, placing her palm of his hand.

Harry seemed to be calming down, and returned to stab at his steak with renewed vigor. He was not much different than the boy he was more than a decade ago; still the same coal black, wild hair, the same almond shaped eyes and the same obsessive passion to make justice and save the world. No wonder he was the perfect man for the Head of Auror office position.

"What does he do for living?" Ginny asked curiously, "Living off his father's blood money?"

"Actually, he told me he worked for the department of Mystery," Hermione replied, watching Harry's reaction.

"What?" Ginny yawped, "An Ex-Death Eater in the Mystery department. That's a crazy world."

"Not at all." Harry spoke and both women looked at him with shock, "He has vast and valuable knowledge of the Dark Arts and as much as I hate to admit it, the little ferret was quite a hero during the war."

"Hero?" Both Ginny and Hermione cried out.

"Yes." Harry confirmed, "We would never bring Voldemort down so soon if it wasn't for him."

"And why did you never share this information with us?" Hermione inquired, looking furious.

"Because Malfoy asked me not to tell. This was the reason he was acquitted, very few knew what he had done." Harry said casually, piling the rice on his plate.

"And what exactly had he done?" Hermione investigated, still feeling betrayed.

"Since you're on such good terms with him, I guess he'll tell you himself when he's ready," Harry avoided an answer, suddenly very interested in his food.

"So why did you tell us about him now?" Ginny asked, her eyes boring holes in him.

"You seemed curious, and I felt like upsetting Malfoy for some strange reason," Harry shrugged, "I'd appreciate if you don't tell a living soul about it, though."

"Why would he want such information to be hidden?" Hermione wondering loudly, staring at her glass.

"Malfoy is a complicated git," Harry answered, "I have a few good bets on why, but I'll wait for you to confirm it."

"I don't really plan on delving into the in depths of his tortured soul, looking for answers." Hermione said dryly.

"Don't you?" Ginny teased her, smirking, "Your curiosity says otherwise."

"He's a Malfoy." Hermione countered.

"Especially since he's a Malfoy." Ginny stated and Hermione sat in silence, pondering.

Her next meeting with Malfoy was that upcoming Sunday, the only day on which she did not work, at least not officially; she often reviewed reports at home, wearing rugged pajamas and drinking hot Chocolate. For an unknown reason she felt the need to dress up; it was not like she wanted to impress Malfoy, she just did not want to give him a reason to look down on her. She chose a tight fitting knee high skirt and a fancy white blouse, with red heeled shoes, just to add some color. She pointed her wand at her rebellious hair, combining into a relaxed updo coiffure, letting a few bangs hang at the side of her face and looked at the mirror, satisfied with the result.

They were supposed to meet once again in Diagon alley, and she had Apparated in the scheduled time just to find that he was already there, waiting for her. He offered her a polite smile when she approached him, though the way his eyes caressed her body was far from polite.

"Why do I get the feeling you're dressing up for me?" Malfoy teased her, grinning, "My memories of you are of a fashionably challenged girl."

"A few years passed since I was a fashionably challenged girl," Hermione remarked.

"These years were definitely kind to you," Malfoy mumbled quietly, and she barely managed to hear it. "Well, we head to King's Cross now, a car awaits us outside of the station." He informed her, starting to walk.

"We are going to Museum by car?" Hermione blurted, agitated.

"It's better to arrive at a Muggle museum in a Muggle way, don't you think?" Malfoy said casually, slightly lifting the left sleeve of his jacket to glance at his watch; a platinum Rolex. Hermione felt an urge to rub her eyes, certain that she was hallucinating, but it was unmistakable; Malfoy was surely expanding his horizons.

Malfoy lead her through the parking lot determinedly heading towards a certain black car; her jaw dropped when the driver opened the door of the Maybach and she sat on the luxurious leather awe-struck. "Granger, please refrain from drooling over the seats." Malfoy said snidely, and she closed her mouth immediately, still not acknowledging this car cost more than she would ever make in her lifetime.

Hermione stared at him bluntly; he was not wearing his robes and she examined the grey suit he was wearing. "You've got style Malfoy, I'd give you that." Hermione said, "A Rolex watch, riding a Maybach, Armani suits…The embodiment of the Muggle dream."

"Nice observation," Malfoy sneered, "But that's a Zegna suit, not Armani."

She felt the urge to punch him, forcefully and cruelly, but restrained herself. He was a Malfoy after all and he could not help his arrogance as much as he tried. "You're still a git."

"Otherwise you won't recognize me." He gave her a cheeky grin, and she turned to look out from the window. For some reason, it was not at all awkward. Sure, he was irritating but not enough for her to suffer and he did not make her uncomfortable like he used to. She felt no pressure when she was around him, no need to prove herself; he already knew her as the insufferable know-it-all and everything she did differently would be an improvement.

They halted in front of the museum and he actually offered her his hand when she was about to exit the car; after a second's thought she took it, his grip was gentle. They walked towards the impressive entry; the ancient Greek architecture left her with awe and admiration and after Malfoy waved a certain platinum card in front of the guards they were immediately let in. He seemed to know exactly where he was going him, taking her hand once again and leading her towards the desired exhibition; not that she minded looking at some of the other ones, she could have spent there the entire day. And the day afterwards.

They were fascinated by the gold mask of Tutankhamen, Hermione stared at it for so long her eyes began to tear from not blinking. "You know, they have an amazing library housed in this department, relating to ancient and medieval Egypt culture." Malfoy mentioned indifferently, knowing it would ignite her.

She tore her eyes from the king's mask and looked at him almost pleadingly, "Do you think we can stop by?"

He chuckled; she was still the same Hermione after all. "Sure. We have all day."

"Have you ever been to Egypt?" she suddenly asked, after a long silence.

"A few times, but I was on duty." Malfoy said thoughtfully, "The pyramids…all I can say is that my department finds great interest in them, and not in vain."

"Them maybe you are familiar with one of my friends," Hermione said slowly, "He was a curse breaker, working for Gringots. He's name was Bill…"

"Weasley," Malfoy completed the sentence. "The only Weasley I could barely tolerate. We almost killed each other the first time we met tough."

"Obviously, you're the cause for his…" Hermione trailed off, not wanting to bring up the past.

"I know I am." Malfoy admitted bitterly, "We've settled that matter. He got me hospitalized in St. Mungo's for a good week or so, but we've overcome our animosity."

Hermione laughed at the thought of Bill cursing Malfoy to oblivion. "I'm glad the thought of my painful death amuses you, Granger." Malfoy said bitterly, wearing a fake hurt expression.

"I've been fanaticizing for years about giving you a slow, agonized death." Hermione admitted, smiling evilly.

"So perhaps we should skip all of that. Why waste my time and fortune on you, when I can make you the happiest by letting you execute me in the ministry's plaza?" Malfoy stared at her, too earnestly than she expected.

"Because you might earn your pardon," Hermione replied with a bright smile, surprising even herself when she linked their arms and led him to another exhibit, "You are doing quite well so far."

They continued to walk through the museum, delaying over some of the more exciting objects, arguing lengthily about cultural concepts and having an unannounced wit competition. Just when Hermione was about to smack his blond annoying head, Malfoy had gently pulled her to one of the corridors, leading her away from the crowd. He seemed to pick the perfect moment to abate her anger, leading her into a monstrously huge library, countless shelves of book arranged in flawlessly straight rows.

"You sure know how to make a woman's heart skip a beat," Hermione said sarcastically, but the excitement on her face told him he did the right thing.

"I use rather…unorthodox methods in your case," Malfoy drawled, watching her as she disappeared among the books. Hermione did not waste time, eagerly examining the rare writings neatly arranged on the shelves, running an admiring finger on a thick book's spine. She glanced at Malfoy and was surprised to see he was occupied with a book, a severe, concentrated expression on his face. His silvery hair fell elegantly on his left eyes and his mercury eyes darted across the page; she could tell he was an extremely fast reader. They only left the museum when security guards had threatened to throw them out, as the place was closing; they stepped outside to see a beautiful sunset.

"Care to take a walk?" Malfoy asked pleasantly, "Reagent's Park is nearby."

She looked at him firmly for a moment, studying his features; he had grown to be handsome man. She secretly found him attractive as a boy as well, but years have been kind to him, adding to him the maturity that perfected his good looks. She nodded and he linked their arms, walking together in silence; in a Muggle environment they were not stared at, or gossiped about.

"Do your friends know?" Hermione asked quietly, turning to look at him. His expression hardened.

"My friends?" He raised an eyebrow, "And who might they be?"

"Goyle, Pansy…I don't know, the Slytherins who survived." Hermione replied, feeling she had chosen a sensitive subject.

"I'm not particularly favored by the Slytherins who survived, Granger, since I'm viewed as a traitor," Malfoy informed her in a cold voice, "Regardless Goyle and Pansy are not really the type of people you'd share this knowledge with." Hermione looked at him questioningly, and he added, "While Goyle might seem as if he's listening, he can offer very few words of wisdom…and Pansy, definitely listens, but that would mean the rest of the wizarding world would know of it in less than an hour."

"The only one I do consider as a friend would be Blaise Zabini," Malfoy shared, "You might remember him from our school days."

"I do," Hermione confirmed, "I heard he was also managing your assets."

"It's nice to know you've been following publications regarding me," Malfoy smirked smugly.

"It's hard not to, with the amount of publicity you're getting." Hermione countered, giving him a nasty look.

"I do try to minimize the exposure," he admitted, "But when it comes to promoting business…"

"I've noticed your name was never tied in some shameful scandal. I bet you pay them well enough to keep it quiet." She teased.

"What scandals would you imagine me involved in?" he asked innocently, but his bright eyes flickered with mischief.

"Assuming you had completely neglected your infamous past as Death Eater, I would say mainly…scandalous romantic affairs." Hermione said musingly. She could definitely imagine Malfoy having an orgy with too many underage witches.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Granger." Malfoy said bitterly.

"You never married? Or had children?" She asked, surprised at her own questions. Malfoy did not seem to mind her inquiring.

"No, Sadly." He replied in an honest voice, "I could say I never met the right woman, but I believe there was more to it."

"May I pray and ask what it was?" Hermione sent him a sweet smile.

"You already did." Malfoy said darkly, "Still as nosy as you've always been." He remarked and she scolded, though she knew he was right this time, "My parent's marriage wasn't really the healthiest, happiest relationship. I do believe it influenced me."

"So I guess you gave up on being a hopeless romantic?" Hermione said sarcastically.

"No." Malfoy said quietly and looked at her. For a moment her heart stopped. "I was never a one to begin with."

She let out a breath she never realized she was holding; was she honestly just expected him to confess his long-lasting love for her? Too much time with Malfoy probably had a negative effect on her sanity. "What about you?" he asked, making her tense.

"Never married, no kids." She summarized shortly.

He grinned widely. "You know, I was the only one among the Slytherins that said you were never going to marry Weasel." Malfoy said with obvious pride of his vision.

"Why did you think so?" Hermione's curiosity was ignited once again.

"He was just so… plain." Malfoy said simply, "He wasn't challenging you and though it was hard for him to admit, I bet he knew he was nowhere near your league."

Hermione looked at him with astound; this new, alien Malfoy had some frighteningly accurate insights. "And this was your argument when you debated with your Slytherin peers?" she raised an eyebrow, amused.

He rolled his eyes, "Obviously not, Granger. I claimed you were the first one to be murdered when the war starts." He said darkly, giving her a twisted grin.

She sighed heavily, overcoming the urge to punch him. He was Draco Malfoy after all.


	4. Good Morning Good Morning

**Chapter 4 : Good Morning Good Morning**

Hermione and Ginny hectically roamed Muggle London's shops for Tennis clothes; Malfoy had asked her if she liked to play with him and out of sheer shock she accepted the invitation, remembering only a day before the match that her only sports clothes were bought somewhere in her adolescence. Since it was Malfoy she was playing with, she was in a desperate need for new ones, before he would shower her with criticism and gave her his sneers, which was more than she could tolerate.

"It's not fair." Ginny complained, watching Hermione as she walked out of a dressing room, wearing a white and blue Tennis dress.

"What's not fair?" Hermione asked distracted, while examining her reflection in the mirror.

"That you didn't have a baby, that you sit on your ass all day eating junk and you still look like that," Ginny said in almost hateful voice, watching Hermione's figure in the mirror. She had killer legs when she was young, and surprisingly she still had them and that dress was showing it very well.

"I think it's too short." Hermione mused loudly, as the skirt ended at her mid thigh.

"It's perfect. Make him drool." Ginny said firmly, "You're all about changing one's views on another, so why not proving him your prude days are behind you?"

"Is that really a message I want to pass to Malfoy?" Hermione asked with concern and all Ginny did in reply was laugh at her. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because you are so blind sometimes." Ginny replied cryptically, and handed her another dress to try on.

After this exhausting shopping session was done with, they returned to Diagon Alley for a relaxing coffee at Florean's Ice Cream Parlor. Florean was killed by Death Eaters almost fifteen years ago, but fans of his innovative, delicious ice cream had kept the place running in his memory.

"You never told me about your museum trip." Ginny mentioned, over her mug of coffee. "And please don't change the subject again and try to ask about Harry or the kids; you are already more updated than I am."

Hermione sighed, she was somewhat uncomfortable discussing it, and she even avoided the subject in her inner conversations. "Odd." Was the first word she came up with. "I mean, it was pleasurable and fluent and not nearly as awkward as I expected it to be, and that was odd. I spent an entire day with Malfoy and it was pleasant. Can you believe it?"

"Hardly," Ginny admitted, "No Mudblood comments?"

"Oh," Hermione said with a chuckle, "Once in a while he throws in a nasty comment, but he's not cruel, just teasing." Hermione analyzed, "He is not entirely changed, and there is still a lot of that good old obnoxious Malfoy inside of him so I won't mistake him for another, but the bastard coats everything with so much style and charm that it is almost forgivable."

Ginny seemed fascinated, "He has Muggle clothes, and a Muggle watch and a car!" Hermione exclaimed, "Obviously all of them are the best there is, and by far the most expensive, since only the best is worthy of a Malfoy…" Hermione mimicked him very successfully causing Ginny to choke on her drink.

"Have you talked about personal issues?" Ginny asked, attentive.

"A little, yes." Hermione confirmed, "He never marred or had children," Ginny raise a surprised eyebrow at that piece of information, "Something about not finding the right woman and his parents' sick relationship affecting him."

"You sound unconvinced," Ginny observed, she really did knew Hermione well.

"I think there's more to it." Hermione stated, looking at her coffee as if she could find answers in it, "I think the war scarred him, at least like it did to us."

"He is acting weird about it, according to Harry," Ginny supported her argument, "Do you like him?" Ginny fire a question that caught Hermione completely off guard.

"What? Of course I'm…" Hermione started to protest when her eyes spotted something and her expression darkened, "Well, here ends my hopes for a pleasant day." Hermione almost barked.

Ginny turned around and slightly paled as she saw Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown walking towards them, holding hands and beaming like fireflies. "Hello, Ginny!" Lavender greeted in an overly excited voice, completely ignoring Hermione's presence. Ron seemed to shift uncomfortably.

"Hey, Sister," Ron said with a smile, and with an emotionless expression turned to Hermione and greeted her curtly. She returned him a polite, measured nod.

"We would love to join you Ginny," Lavender said in a high pitched voice, "But I find your companion bellow my level so we would have to do it another time."

Ginny was about to say she never invited Lavender to join but someone preceded her, putting his arm on Hermione's shoulder, "How does eating the leftovers feel?" a deep, rich voice that was vaguely familiar said in with contempt.

Lavender's face reddened so much and Hermione had expected her to explode every minute. "Come, Won-Won, we're leaving!" she declared, and pulling him by the hand, she marched away.

Hermione slowly raised her eyes to examine her defender; a dark skinned, brown eyed, devilishly handsome man. "Blaise Zabini." Hermione could not help but smile.

"The one and only," her replied with a smug smile, "Lovely to run into you, Miss Granger." He said and stretched the hand that was not holding an ice cream cone for her to shake. "I'm afraid I'm in a great hurry, but I'm sure we will meet again soon." He promised her with a shiny smile.

He turned to look at Ginny with eyes clouded with lust; Hermione could tell she was not breathing. "Ginny Weasley, by far my most favorite redhead," Blaise said in a sly voice, taking her hand and planting a soft kiss on the back of it. "If you ever get tired of Saint Potter…" he winked at her and walked away.

"What was that?" Hermione asked rhetorically, shaking her head with disbelief.

"That is what happens when Malfoy favors you." Ginny replied with a smile, still a bit dazed by Blaise's actions. "His friends appear out of nowhere and defend your dignity. I'm starting to like that git."

Hermione offered her small smile. She should have corrected her, told her there was no friends in plural, barely one, and it was Blaise. But she kept silent, keeping his confidentiality, beginning to realize she might need to give him slightly more credit than she had before. Never since she left the Golden Trio had someone stood up for her that way.

Hermione sorely discovered she was completely out of shape, as she panted all her way to the bench, reaching for her water and collapsing not so gracefully on it. "It seems like we would have to turn it into a habit, Granger. Someone needs to get you in shape." Malfoy said arrogantly.

"If I had enough oxygen to think, I would fatally hex you." Hermione groaned, glaring at him.

He chuckled at her comment; not sneered or smirked, just chuckled, a pleasant, nearly cute chuckle. She looked around them, they were in a high class Tennis Club, one of those fancy places that selected their members very carefully and demanded an atrociously high subscription fee, perfectly fitting Malfoy's nature. She could not deny it looked amazing; the thoughtful gardening, the new, shiny facilities, the well preserved grass courts. Malfoy was the ideal grass court player with his powerful serve and impressive abilities covering the net, she admitted he kicked her ass.

"How long have you been playing?" Hermione asked when her breathing slowed down.

"I picked it up after the war, mainly because I liked the fancy clothes," he said laughingly, and she eyed him. He certainly did, wearing Lacoste attire that ideally fitted him. She would never imagine Malfoy wearing white, but there it was in front of her eyes, and did it look amazing. "It demands a combination of quick thinking and decent physical abilities," he shrugged, "I became fond of it."

"Well, for the first time in our history I'm admitting you have beaten me," Hermione said in defeat.

"I think this statement should be celebrated. Will you join me in breakfast after we finish playing?" he suggested, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead.

"Aren't we finished yet?" Hermione said weakly earning a healthy laugh.

"I'm not done watching you in that pretty dress of yours," Malfoy said slyly, giving her a very blunt look that painted her cheeks red. Hermione rolled her eyes at his immaturity, but found it complementing nonetheless. People rarely complimented her looks, fearing her wrath, and Malfoy never seemed to dread her ire. After another half an hour of excessive playing Hermione knew every muscle in her body would ache when she would wake up the following morning, but the vigorous sense of life that filled her made up for that future inconvenience. They separated to take a shower and then headed back to Diagon Alley.

They just passed Flourish and Botts when Hermione halted. "Do you mind if we stop here for a few moments? There's a book I was …" Hermione began to explain when he silence her with a wave of his hand.

"Not at all." He said with a light smile, "Go ahead."

She gave him a grateful smile; not many could suffer her obsession for books, and would usually grunt and protest when she asked them to stop at a book store. It was different with Malfoy, she noticed when she scanned the shelves for the desired book, and he immediately seemed to take interest in a novel a few shelves away. Malfoy was an intellectual, and though he hid it better than she did, a true book lover just like she was; this discovery unnerved her. But not as half as the annoying voice that reached her ears.

"Shit." She cursed, a little too loudly, drawing Malfoy's attention, who looked at her questioningly, "Ron and his skunk of a wife are here," she informed him nervously, "And they're coming right here." She noticed, turning her back to them, hoping to be unnoticed.

"She saw you." Malfoy said, amusement playing in his eyes, as he watched the couple walking in their direction. "Act naturally, Granger." He ordered her, confusing her. He took a step closer to her, placing one of his hands on her waist and the other cupping her cheek, and she tried to hide her panic, feeling a jolt of electricity run through her body at his closeness and his touch.

He lifted her face with his thumb under her chin, forcing her to look straight into his grey orbs; he was so close she could see Ron's reflection in his eyes. His hand softly caressed her cheek and he leaned forward, his mouth inched from her ear, "Giggle." He told her, and she did, letting out a sweet, melodic giggle without the slightest effort. She inhaled, taking his expensive cologne and his natural scent, the mixture was nothing less than intoxicating and she almost fainted when she felt his lips brush against her cheek in a soft kiss. She was a grown, experienced woman, but being intimate with Malfoy, even just pretending to do so, was quite an overwhelming event.

"Hermione!" She heard Ron yell behind her, and slowly turned around with a wide grin, "What are you doing with him?"

"The real question, Won Won," Hermione said tauntingly, "Is what you are doing here. You don't read, and Lavender doesn't as well, with the exception of the gossip sections." Hermione remarked snidely, and she could actually feel Malfoy beaming next to her.

Lavender petted her stomach lovingly; she had gained weight. "We are searching for a book to read to our little baby." She said in a sickly sweet voice. Hermione's face fell, they were having a baby? "They say it helps his cognitive development."

"You are going to read to a Fetus?" Malfoy drawled, and Hermione and he exchanged looks, "If you wanted an intelligent baby so desperately, Weasel, you should have stayed with Hermione." Malfoy ridiculed him, wrapping a very possessive arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him, to Ron's mortified expression. Hermione did not know what shocked her more; how naturally he used her first name, his implied compliment or the way he stood up for her, but she was glowing with happiness.

Once again the annoying couple was left speechless, and crawled away defeated. She turned to look at Malfoy with softness that she never showed him. "Thank you. That was really nice of you." She said in a quiet voice, never imagining these words coming out of her mouth when talking to him.

"For what, Granger?" he said with a smirk, "I humiliated Weasel to the verge of tears, flaunting you, who represent his greatest failure. Must be one of the happiest days of my life."

Hermione grinned at him. "You're corrupted to the bone." She remarked and he chuckled.

"Now, let me buy you that book you wanted," Malfoy lead her back to the bookshelves, "In return for the great pleasure I just received from abasing your ex." He placed a finger to her lips when she was about to argue, and the sensuality of the situation silenced her. "Well played, by the way. I didn't know you could be so cunningly Slytherin." He commented with a smirk.

"There's a whole lot more you don't know about me, Malfoy." Hermione give him a flirting smile, not so accidently brushing her backside against his body when she passed him to reach for the wanted book.

"And I'm going to find out," he whispered, watching her walk away to pay for her book, before he would. He marched after her, determined not to let her pay.

**Review if you think Draco is awesome :P**


	5. Within You Without You

**Sorry for the long wait! I'm a busy (frustratingly enslaved) student.**

**Enjoy! And comment!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 : Within You Without You<strong>

Hermione set at her desk, her elbows leaning on the table as she attentively watched Harry, who paced manically in her office. "Look, I know how much you love your House Elves, but we really need you brain somewhere else." Harry told her nervously.

"I love my work, it brings me happiness. I believe in what I do." Hermione told him truthfully, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Nasty things happen. A low profile activity, seemingly insignificant movements, but I can feel it in my bones that it is much bigger than that." Harry shared his fear, the circles around his eyes darker than ever. "Promise me you'll at least consider it."

"I will, Harry," Hermione promised and with an anxious nod he turned to the door, just when it was opened by none other than Malfoy, holding two cups of coffee. Harry glared at him, appearing as he was about to growl.

"I don't know what that sick game you're playing is, but if you hurt Hermione, you're good as dead." Harry threatened, walked passed him and slammed the door loudly.

"That was a pleasant encounter," Malfoy said calmly, walking over to her desk and handed her a cup of coffee, "I saw you coming this morning, you looked like you could use it."

"I certain can." Hermione said gratefully, sipping it eagerly. It was strong, without too much milk or water, and moderately sweet, just like she preferred. Even after long years of relationship Ron could not get her coffee done right.

"What is it with Potter?" Malfoy asked, sitting down in front of her, placing his feet on her table. It irritated her in the beginning, but after a few useless arguments, she gave up.

"He wants me transferred to Law Enforcement," Hermione said tiredly, "He thinks something bad is cooking."

Malfoy's eyes were ignited by something she could not name and she had a solid notion he knew what Harry was talking about. "But you enjoy running this animal's almshouse." He said with his typical sneer. He had an unusually mean way of doing so, but he knew how to say the right things.

She offered him a tight smile. "Harry is worried. And he has a sixth sense for calamities." Hermione argued reasonably, "And if I'm really needed somewhere else…"

"You Gryffindors and your stupid sense of self sacrifice." Malfoy leered at her, "You always feel like you have to save the world, Granger."

She was silent, knowing he was irritatingly right. Malfoy was always sharp and observant; he was watching her all these years at Hogwarts, and spending time with her now, he really got to know her. "Why don't you start living for yourself? Take a friendly advice from a wise dying man." He added with a bitter smile.

She sighed heavily, resting her forehead against her palms, a whirlwind of thoughts roaring in her head. "I will let you consider it peacefully," Malfoy said, standing up, "Tennis tomorrow as usual?" he asked with a smirk.

"Prepare for getting your ass kicked." She straightened in her chair, giving him a defiant stare. They indeed became more equally balanced and she wondered if it was she who was getting better, or was he just getting weaker. She shook that saddening thought away.

"Sure, Granger." He said with contempt and walked out of her office. Her eyes followed him involuntarily, a small smile spread on her face; in those few months he managed to earn a respected place in her life, enough for her to list him as one of her friends. Their relations were not what she would call warm, there were many nasty comments and battles of wit, but they also had fertile, profound dialogues and many common fields of interest. Neglecting their history, Draco Malfoy was a worthy opponent, matching her intellectually and even beating her in some fields, a man who could challenge her like she always wished to find. But forgetting the past was impossible.

Ginny had dragged her to do some Christmas shopping and they both headed to Quality Quidditch Supplies, to find Harry a gift. For unknown reason it was impossibly crowded, teenage girls screaming and fainting, and boys shoving each other violently while standing in the line. They bypassed the line of people, and Ginny began to search the shelves for an appropriate gift. "What's going on here?" Hermione asked one of the workers.

"Chudley Cannons' Keeper is here," he replied with a satisfied grin, "It's a good publicity for us."

"Chudley Cannons' Keeper?" Ginny neglected her gift hunting, "He's hot!" she exclaimed, dragging Hermione by the hand to get a better view. When they managed to get a pick of the famous celebrity, Hermione's heart sank to her knickers, knowing she should definitely leave before he saw her. Was that git the cause of this entire fuss?

She made an attempt to sneak covertly out of the shop, but she was unlucky. "Granger," she heard him call after her, and although she knew she should run as fast as her legs could carry her, she stood in place. "It's been a while." He said, smiling at her.

Not long enough, Hermione thought bitterly. "Indeed, McLaggen." Hermione replied shortly, staring at him indifferent, though she had to admit he was handsome.

"I know I left a poor impression on you while at Hogwarts," he confessed, and she approved with a strict nod, "But how about giving me a second chance?"

Hermione considered it; he seemed more mature, and if he changed like Malfoy did, it could even be pleasant. "I do suppose you deserve a second chance. Everybody does." She said coolly.

"Then will you go out with me on Friday?" he flashed her an enchanting smile, his honey eyes shining.

She pondered; she was thirty and single, with a very limited circle of friends. It should not be too bad. "Gladly," she replied with a sweet smile, and without another word walked out of the shop, Ginny joining her a few seconds later.

"Why do you get all the hot guys to yourself?" Ginny whined, her eyes following McLaggen, "First Malfoy, now McLaggen…"

"I'm being rewarded for suffering Ron all those years." Hermione retorted viciously, and Ginny laughed, knowing she should not.

"I recently heard you had an interesting encounter in Flourish and Botts, a few weeks ago" Ginny mentioned, eyeing Hermione with amusement. "Ron said Malfoy was snogging you senseless, but I found that hard to believe."

"Because it's a lie." Hermione spat, "He merely kissed my cheek, while pretending to snog me to irk Ron,"

"He certainly succeeded," Ginny said laughingly, "Malfoy is becoming quite protective of you."

"Not at all," Hermione dismissed her claim, "He was driving a sick satisfaction from using me to humiliate Ron. It is Malfoy we are talking about."

"It was still nice of him." Ginny insisted, and Hermione kept silent, thinking she was right.

That night Malfoy's head popped in her fireplace looking unusually weary. She had not seen him for more than a week, and that was the longest they had not seeing each other since they began associating. "You look like shit, Malfoy." Hermione remarked over a steaming cup of tea.

"I feel like shit." He admitted.

"Where have you been?" Hermione inquired, adjusting the blanket that covered her legs, and placed the book she was reading on the table.

"Half way across the world, working. Unpleasant experiences." He replied shortly, and she knew better than to pry. "Are you free Friday night?" he asked her.

Hermione bit her lower lip. "No, I already have something planned."

"Who must I hex to make them cancel?" he asked with a dangerous smirk.

"Chudley Cannons' Keeper." Hermione replied with a slight blush. Malfoy looked at her confused. "I'm going on a date, Malfoy."

He was silent, deadly silent. "Well, I would never want to interfere with your love life," Malfoy said dryly, "Even though the choice does surprise me. I mean, McLaggen, that pompous sod…"

"Are you available on Thursday?" Hermione changed the subject.

"I'm afraid not." Malfoy said in a cold voice. He was always quite distant but she could sense something was different.

"Saturday then?" she suggested hopefully.

"I'll check my busy schedule," he remarked sarcastically, forcing a smirk.

"Please do find some time for me," Hermione found herself saying, "Unbelievable as it sounds, I missed you, you prat."

His expression softened. "I bet you did, if you were desperate enough to date McLaggen while I was gone." Malfoy said with disgust, "I shall never leave you again, fearing what I might find out in my return."

"A bit possessive, aren't we?" Hermione teased, smirking at him, perfectly mimicking his smirk.

"I keep my friends close, and my enemies closer," Malfoy said abstrusely and disappeared among the flames. That was such a characteristic comment, he would never let her come too close, never let her feel she was standing on a safe ground. But this is why he was so intriguing.

Ginny insisted on doing her make up for her date with McLaggen in spite Hermione's loud protests; she did not want to give him the wrong ideas. When Ginny finished with her she stared at the mirror with worry; she really looked good, too good, and she did not wish to draw that kind of attention. "Oh come on, Hermione. Live a little." Ginny persuaded, "Think of Ron's face when he finds out you dated his favorite team's keeper!"

That was a winning argument. And seeing where McLaggen had taken them, she was absolutely sure Ron would find out the morning after, while Lavender was reading the gossip section. She could not help but be extremely judgmental; it was a luxurious restaurant, but not the classy type Malfoy would take her to. It was just fancy for the sake of being fancy, meant for rich people to flaunt their money and pretty women and let them pretend they had a refined taste.

McLaggen watched her hypnotized, his sandy blond hair resting in natural waves on his head, mixing nicely with his tanned skin. He had certainly made a progress since he was a student, being a little less blunt about his romantic intentions and holding a conversation that was not focused on his supreme Quidditch skills.

"You seem to get more publicity than I do, with your job at the ministry." He joked, and she returned a smile, "You'll have my vote when you run for the minister's position." He flattered her.

"I doubt it will ever happen." Hermione said, taking a bite from her Gratin Dauphinois.

"Strange things happening lately," McLaggen remarked, "I heard you were best friends with that Slytherin git."

"That would be an exaggeration," Hermione said calmly, "I'm in good terms with Malfoy."

"See?" McLaggen leaned back in his chair smugly, "Anything is possible these days."

She let out a small laugh, he did have a point. They halted their conversation to concentrate on their food, and Hermione thought she had never imagining having the lifestyle she had now, with Malfoy constant spoiling, and McLaggen's new addition.

"So what are you planning to do after you retire?" Hermione questioned, "You can't dodge Bludgers for the rest of your life…"

He seemed very serious for a moment, "I have been thinking about it lately," he admitted, "I'm still the best keeper," he said with a arrogant grin, "But my reactions are getting slower, and my body aching when I wake up in the morning," his voice was quiet, sadness combined with acceptance. Hermione found it to be really depressing.

"I guess I'd take up coaching," he said with a shrug, "Quidditch is the only thing I know."

This last statement cause Hermione's face to drop. He made a pretty decent impression that evening, and comparing to the old McLaggen, this one was a fairytale knight, but she could not help but notice that he was disappointingly two dimensional. He was self conscious enough to admit it himself, which was estimable, but she could not picture herself falling for such man, or even enjoying his company as a friend for much longer than an hour of small talk.

"I was also thinking about settling down," he said after she had been quiet, "Starting a family…" he looked at her meaningfully. She excused herself and went to the bathroom, needing an escape.

She looked at the mirror and all she could think about was what Malfoy had thought of her appearance. When she was with McLaggen, she compared everything he did to Malfoy, and found him not as graceful. And uttering that sentence about knowing nothing but Quidditch caused her to think of Malfoy's expression when he would hear it, almost wanting to laugh at McLaggen's face.

That was all very wrong, she mentally kicked herself, I should not be comparing my date to Malfoy, and I certainly should not be thinking about that ferret so often. But then another thought crossed her mind making her smile widely; actually, it was very useful to have Malfoy around since it reminded her not to lower her standards. She was not a desperate woman after all, and she deserved better than that.

She thanked McLaggen for the lovely dinner when they were done and he insisted on walking her to her flat, Hermione hoped he was not getting the wrong ideas. They strolled peacefully on the quiet streets, conversing lightly, without delving into a deeper subjects, mainly talking about their school days. He tried to kiss her when they reached her door, but she elegantly gave him the cheek.

"Still playing hard to get," he said jokingly.

"Some things never changes." She replied with a humored smile, and slid into her flat, leaving him to stare at her door.


	6. Getting Better

**Comments are highly appreciated! **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6 - Getting Better<strong>

Malfoy was waiting for her outside the apartment building she lived in; his slightly arched back leaned against the wall, his hands shoved into his pocket in a very punkish way. She examined him while she approached; his body was always long and lean, but he seemed to lose weight recently. He gave her a lopsided smile, scanning her bluntly, and shook his head with approval.

"You're unusually dolled up, Granger," He drawled, still ogling her, "Not that I expected less, seeing how you groomed yourself for that git, McLaggen…"

"How would you know?" Hermione questioned, eyebrow rising.

"I read the Daily Prophet," Malfoy said amusingly, "Rita Skeeter got to the front page thanks to you," he informed her, even more delighted to learn Hermione was unaware of it.

"Oh crap." Hermione said tiredly, closing her eyes momentarily. Suddenly he was very close to her, and she could feel his hands on her shoulders, pulling her to stand up straight and proud, and not miserably bent down.

"It's not the first time she wrote shit about you," Malfoy reminded her, "I don't want you to look depressed when you hang out with me. People might get the wrong impression, and thing I am less than amazing."

She snorted at his comment, oddly feeling better and walked beside him as they made their way to the Leaky Cauldron. "So how awful was your date?" he asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"Not as awful as expected. You aren't the only one that has changed," Hermione remarked, and she could see him grimace slightly, "But McLaggen really isn't my type."

"He didn't try to pull any moves?" Malfoy asked with a sly grin.

"He tried to kiss me when the date was over. I gave him the cheek." Hermione said calmly, not even blushing.

"That's cold." Malfoy said gleefully.

"I know." Hermione sighed, "He's really good looking, not quite as self centered as he used to be, moderately funny and pretty serious about a relationship." Hermione noted, "But I can't imagine myself talking about Quidditch for the rest of my life."

Malfoy laughed wholeheartedly at her comment, he rarely laughed, and it made her smile. "You've set up some high standards for men, Malfoy." Hermione said bitterly.

"Granger, if you are looking for someone that's better than me, quit searching- you'll never find one." He said in a warm voice, which was not even arrogant, just immensely confident.

"I'll settle for someone as good as you," Hermione half joked, knowing there was more truth in that sentence that she would like to admit.

He gave her a curious look. "That would be terribly hard to find." He told her seriously, "But I will let you know if I find an appropriate candidate."

She smiled at him brightly, linking their arms as they entered the Leaky Cauldron, receiving a handful of stares; people had a hard time to digest they were on friendly terms now. They never went to a pub before, usually sticking to intimate restaurants where they are unlikely to be interrupted, but Malfoy clearly stated he was in a need for a drink. They sat at the bar, ordering two Firewhiskeys, and she could sense Malfoy was greatly troubled.

"How was work?" Hermione inquired, giving him a side glance.

"Awful, I'm a wreck." He said frustrated, emptying his glass in one sip, "I've seen things that I wish I never witness again." He said vaguely, "As much as I hate to admit it, Potter might be right…"

As if on a cue, she heard Ginny's voice calling her name, and she turned around, seeing the cheerful redhead marching in her direction, dragging Harry behind her. "Malfoy," Ginny said slowly, "pleasant to see you."

"I wouldn't lie and return the compliment," Malfoy drawled, "But if I had to see a Weasley tonight, I'm glad it was you." He said with a charming smile that made Ginny grin back.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, "It's good to see you and Ginny out of the house."

"Yeah, molly agreed to watch the kids." Harry replied, looking relieved, "What was that scandalous article about you dating that sod McLaggen?" Harry inquired.

"We went out yesterday…" Hermione confessed worriedly, as Harry seemed to explode any second.

"You should keep an eye on her when I'm not around, Potter." Malfoy remarked, shaking his head in disappointment.

"I sure will." Harry said firmly, still staring at Hermione, who was shocked by how civil Malfoy and Harry were being. Then harry turned his gaze from Hermione to Malfoy, "I heard you had a nasty trip,"

"You'll never imagine, Potter," Malfoy said darkly, looking older and worn out, his pale features now sallow.

"We'll discuss it Monday, then," Harry said and Malfoy nodded in approval.

"Come Harry, we should let them catch up," Ginny said quietly, tugging on Harry's arm, pulling him to sit somewhere else.

"I never knew you and Harry are capable of being so civil." Hermione said with amusement, ordering another drink.

"A few things changed during the war," he said obscurely, "And we do have to work together from time to time…"

Hermione was felt herself aching to question him about the war; this had intrigued her ever since Harry told them about Malfoy's considerable contribution to Voldemort's demise. But she never got to ask him anything.

"You're such a whore, Hermione," Ron said loudly, from behind her, "Yesterday McLaggen, tonight Malfoy... "

Before she had the opportunity to react she heard Malfoy's voice, which sounded artificially calm, "I urge you to consider how you address Hermione."

"Shut up you filthy scum!" Ron yelled his face ridiculously red, "What are you doing with this Death Eater?" he turned to Hermione.

In a split second Malfoy's wand was pointing at Ron's neck. "A scum that saved your sorry ass Weasley," Malfoy hissed, looking darker and more frightening than she ever saw him. Lavender made a weeping sound behind him, but other than that the pub completely silenced, watching them nervously. "I should advice you to take better caution as you're about to become a father. Look what growing up without parents did to Potter." Malfoy said in a dangerously low voice, looking sinister.

"Very funny, Malfoy," Harry appeared besides them, his wand out as well. "Lower your wand."

Malfoy looked as if he did not even hear Harry. "Do you know how many nights have I gone back to that battle, to that very moment were I foolishly decided to come to your aid," Malfoy's voice was dripping with poison, and Ron had a terrified expression on his face, "Any idea how much I regret it?" Malfoy asked rhetorically, madness flickering in his grey eyes. And then it ended; his body became limp and he lowered his wand, taking one step backwards.

"Ron, I think you should leave," Hermione heard Harry say, while she studied Malfoy. He looked almost serene, but when she placed a hand on his arm, he was shaking.

"Another Firewhiskey here," Hermione ordered the barman, and they returned to their seats, Malfoy still drowning in his melancholy. A few drinks later, Malfoy turned to her with a small smile.

"I didn't know you could drink like that, Granger," Malfoy remarked, his eyes shining again.

"Things I learned during the war…" she trailed off, not wanting to bring that subject again.

"I know you," he said to her ear, teasingly, "You are dying to know."

"True." She confirmed.

"Then let's go somewhere some less crowded and I'll satisfy your curiosity," he offered, taking her completely by surprise, and asked the barman for a bill. They walked silently until they reached her building, and Malfoy took a seat on a bench, motioning her to sit beside him; she obeyed.

"You don't have to tell me," Hermione said, though very reluctantly, "I know you were keeping it a secret."

"There shouldn't be secrets between friends," he said softly, looking at his feet, avoiding her gaze. He took a deep breath, wondering when to begin, and Hermione's eyes were glued to him, her body was tense.

"You knew my father," he said bitterly, "And saying we were a dysfunctional family would be an understatement," Hermione let out a chuckle, "So you can figured out yourself how I was brought up."

"Things took a dramatic turn on that summer after out fifth year, when the Dark Lord returned," he said in a steady voice, "Dear Bellatrix and my father decided I needed a Death Eater's boot camp." Malfoy said dryly, "Let's just say, I got very familiar with Bellatrix's Cruciatus,"

"We have that one in common," Hermione attempted to make a joke, but a shiver run down her spine. He gave her a dark, troubled look.

"Many things had led me to think I was not fit to that way of life, but I liked my comfort and relative safety too much to give it up," Malfoy admitted, "But when I saw you three at the Manor, everything became so real and clear and personal. That was when I decided to go against him."

"I let Harry disarm me, and in the process snack a pendant into his robes, allowing me to communicate him with using a twin pendant," Malfoy explained, "It was an heirloom kept in the family for hundreds of years. The bastard never returned it to me, coming to think of it…" Malfoy said thoughtfully.

"And this is where my spying career started," he said casually, and then turned quiet; stopping his tale though she could feel there was more to it.

"What aren't you telling me?" Hermione asked, her voice slightly breaking.

"Many things happened afterwards, things I hate to reminisce," Malfoy said in a quiet voice, "I'm sure you have plenty of those memories too. If you wish, Potter can tell you, or even show you… he has my memories bottled." He said laughingly, "I just don't want to spend another moment thinking about it."

Hermione watched him with dismay; she never imagine Malfoy opening up to her like that, looking so naked and vulnerable. She took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers, and he stared at their hands, and then looked up to her. "I don't need your pity, Granger." He said emotionlessly.

"It has nothing to do with pity," Hermione said softly, "If you wanted my forgiveness Malfoy, you have it. Along with my sincere apology."

"Apology?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. For crucifying you without searching for all the facts, for judging you by prejudice, for my ignorance and failure to see that there was much more to you than I thought." Hermione said firmly, squeezing his hand.

"Now that's a memory I'd like to bottle." Malfoy said, earning a chuckle.

"Where are you spending Christmas?" Hermione asked after a long silence, knowing Malfoy had no family left.

"I won't be here on Christmas," he replied sadly, "Work…"

"Then come with me to my apartment and I'll give you your present." Hermione said with a smile, jumping to her feet. He raised his eyebrows in surprised but followed her silently to her apartment; he had never been there before. She handed him an oblong box, watching him anxiously as he opened it, "You can't pretend to be a rich Muggle without one of these," she remarked with a grin.

Inside the box lied a black resin and platinum Mont Blanc fountain pen. "That's a Meisterstuck Diamond." Malfoy said appreciatively, "You really shouldn't have, Granger. You're going to starve for a month now."

"I'm not that poor, Malfoy," Hermione said with a laugh, happy that he was impressed by her gift.

"Arguable," he said snidely, "I got something for you, as well." He said hesitantly, shifting uncomfortably in his place. Hermione did not hide her shock when he handed her a black box. It contained a breathtaking lucky charm bracelet, golden links and rubies set on the pendants; there was a four leaf clover, a horse shoe, a lion and a serpent. She did not miss the symbolism. He helped her wear it around her left wrist and said, "I put on some protective charms, just in case you decide to accept Potter's offer…"

Before he could finish his sentence she practically jumped on him, attacking him with a bone crushing hug. He was certainly surprised by the way his body tensed, but with a seeker's quick reactions he wrapped his arms around her, returning the embrace. It was the first time they had significant physical contact since that day at Flourish and Botts, and that was mere pretending. It felt good to be in his arms, better than she wanted it to feel, she missed it without even realizing it. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling his scent, and felt his hand travel from her waist to her head, stroking her hair in smooth, rhythmical movements.

She pulled away slightly, still being held by him and gave him a shy smile; his gift was thoughtful and touching and threw her in a whirlwind of emotions. She never imagined Malfoy was capable of making her feel that way. "If I knew I'd get such a reaction, Granger, I'd buy you jewelry every day." He joked, looking at her softly.

"Don't be an idiot," she smacked his chest playfully, "You know it has nothing to do with it."

He gave her a naughty smirk, "I better go home now, before you'll go all emotional on me," Malfoy said teasingly, unwrapping his arms from her waist. Hermione scowled at him, only Malfoy got ruin a moment like that.


	7. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

**Sorry for the long wait. I'm still terribly occupied with other duties. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7 : Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds<strong>

Draco Malfoy was leaning ever so gracefully on the door post of her office Clad in one of his unimaginably expensive robes that caused him to look as if he walked out of a Witch Weekly fashion article. "Do you have a moment, Granger?" he asked in a lazy voice.

"Sure." Hermione replied, her eyes rigidly fixed on her paperwork, just so she would not have to admit how devilishly handsome he was.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him, taking a seat in front of her desk and as usual resting his feet on it; it amazed her how his shoes were cleaner and shinier than her kitchenware, and she was obsessively tidy. "Are you free on Friday?" he questioned, "Please don't tell me you're seeing McLaggen again…"

"Not in this life time," Hermione replied laughingly, "I guess I am. You know my life isn't really eventful."

"Then how fortunate is that I happen to waltz into your life and provide you with entrainment." Malfoy drawled. "I have two tickets to Ballet Bolshoi's Swan Lake," Malfoy informed her and smirked as he saw her eyes lit with enthusiasm, "Of course, if you don't want to accompany me, I'm sure Blaise would find pretty ballerinas in tiny skirts very appealing…" he taunted her, knowing she was eager to come.

"No, no!" she exclaimed, and blushed when she realized she was carried away, "I would really like to go."

"Excellent," he said with satisfaction, "There's a dress code, just letting you know."

Hermione's face fell. That would mean she had to go shopping for a dress, and she had an impossibly busy week, but going to see Swan Lake was certainly worthy of the effort. She felt a wave of heat flash her as his gaze rested on her, examining her features and almost managing to penetrate to her mind; she had an ominous feeling that apart from being a skilled Occlumens, he was quite capable at Legilimency as well. "Well, I'll let you go back to your work as the House Elves' messiah," Malfoy sneered, and stood up, walking out of her office.

He always had to ruin everything with his cynicism and mockery. She wished she could be mad at him, like she used to be, loathe him like she did in the past, but it was impossible now. Because for every nasty comment he made she could think of at least one deed, one wonderful deed that made her smile. He surprised her; she was actually expecting him to buy her forgiveness with his money, shower her with his fortune and hope the Galleons would modify her memory. But it was not like that, not at all.

Firstly, he never did acted like he wanted to be pardoned, he acted like he wanted to know her, and wanted her to know him. After actually knowing him, it was impossible not to forgive him; she figured out he was well aware of it, and this is way he chose to approach her in that method. Secondly, he did not try to impress her with his gold or influence; at least, not explicitly so. He flaunted his intelligence, his fine taste, his wit, his charm, but he had every right to do so, because it was his own making and not something that was passed to him just because he was born under the name Malfoy. Thirdly, everything he did was carefully thought of; he never offered her cheap entertainment. He tried to pick things that would appeal to her the most, trying to give her experiences that she always craved and showed her that he really knew who she was every time they met.

She sighed heavily, thinking he was too perfect sometimes. He had everything she had ever sought for in a man, but lacked one crucial thing- time. His time was running out and she tried to push that thought to the back of her head, in a shadowed, hidden corner where she stored all of her bad thoughts.

"Who are you daydreaming about?" She heard Ginny's bemused voice.

Hermione shook her head, "What?" she asked confused. She never noticed Ginny entering her office.

"Lunch time." Ginny informed her and Hermione nodded, getting up and following the redhead to the cafeteria.

"I am so tired," Ginny confessed, trying not to fall asleep, diving head first to her pasta. "Never imagined having two children could be so exhausting. And my mother has seven!"

"I have a busy week, but if you need help next week…" Hermione offered.

"Thank you, I'll make you regret offering it," Ginny said with a smirk, "God, I miss going out on the weekends, careless and full of energy." Ginny admitted sadly, "Do you have plans?"

"I'm going to see Swan Lake with Malfoy on Friday." Hermione said indifferently, trying to make it seem casual so Ginny would not make a fuss about it.

"Now, seriously, what's going on between you two?" Ginny put down her fork and gave Hermione a fierce, inquisitive stare, that made her feel naked; no wonder she was the best investigator in the Law Enforcement department.

"Nothing, really." Hermione said honestly.

"I would know if you are lying, Hermione," Ginny warned her, "You haven't slept with him?"

"No!" Hermione cried out, causing people to turn their heads and look at her.

"You never kissed?" Ginny asked with disbelief.

"No." Hermione replied.

"And you never wanted him to kiss you?" Ginny smirked demonically, resting her elbows on the table and leaning forward.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, "The thought might have crossed my mind…" she said quietly.

"Then why not?" Ginny questioned.

"Malfoy and I? Seriously," Hermione said with dismissal, "Never going to work, and I doubt he's interested."

"You seem to get along pretty well," Ginny remarked, "And of course he's interested, why else would he still be sticking around wasting time on you?"

Hermione only shook her head in disagreement, and Ginny rolled her eyes at her. "Come Hermione, just shag him already," Hermione immediately blushed, "You're doing anything but, so you might fuck as well."

"Never going to happen, Ginny," Hermione stated firmly, "This is not the nature of our relationship."

"Bullshit," Ginny said defiantly, "All the things he does for you are definitely classified as courting, and don't you think I haven't noticed your new bracelet. A serpent and a lion, huh?" Hermione unconsciously pulled her sleeve to cover the bracelet, "This is not the kind of gift you give to a friend, Hermione, don't play dumb."

Hermione kept quiet. "I saw the way he looks at you and though you are reluctant to admit it, I'm sure under Vertiserum I'll get you tell me just how you fantasize about shagging him senseless." Ginny remarked.

"You wouldn't dare." Hermione hissed.

"Of course I wouldn't, that's illegible," Ginny said innocently, "I was just making a point."

Hermione groaned, focusing on her salad; Ginny was absolutely intolerable at times, especially when she was right. He was a man she could easily she herself involved with, but he was Draco and Malfoy and he was dying, two very good reasons to keep a safe distance.

Friday came abnormally fast, and she did not even realized it was Friday until she reached her flat and noticed the date on the top of the Daily Prophet copy that rested in front of her door; terrified, she realized she had forgotten to buy a dress. Fortunately it was not the only thing that rested on doorstep; a nicely wrapped box was also waiting beside her door. She picked it up and walked to her apartment, dropping on her bed tiredly and opening the box, gasping when she view its content. A black elegant dress was folded neatly in the box, made from a soft, almost liquid fabric that glow in the most breathtaking way, and attached to it was a letter.

"I assumed you had a hectic week, leaving you very little time for shopping, so I took the liberty to choose a dress for you. I hope it is to your liking and apologize if you find my deed offensive.

D.M"

"That prat!" Hermione yelled frustratingly. How could he be so annoyingly charming, and know her so well? She carefully placed the dress back in the box and headed for the bedroom; she could definitely use a rest before another night of denial and repression with Draco Malfoy.

Hermione was a composed, well collected woman that did not drool nor lose her senses over men, but he just looked too delicious that night. Another perfectly fitting suit and that incredibly soft looking hair of his that fell on his left eye so gracefully, and that captivating smile on his lips that made her insides warm. The dress he picked for her was unsurprisingly well suited, as if he knew her accurate measures or had a tailor sew it on her while she was asleep. If she could afford it, this was exactly the kind of dress she would have wanted; it was elegant but not pompous, and revealing just enough to still look sophisticated and classy.

"You're looking well this evening," Malfoy said, looking impressed.

"Is that you complimenting me?" She raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Not at all," he waved his hand in dismissal, "I was admiring my sense of fashion."

"You're a git." Hermione accused, but could not help but smile.

"And you still adore me," he replied with an enchanting smile, making her heart skip a bit. She wondered if he was been more flirty than usual or maybe it were only her heart's wishes.

Needless to say, the Ballet was amazing; Hermione found her sniffing at the tragic end, only to find Malfoy's reassuring hand squeezing hers. She glanced at his face a few times during the show, but could not read his expression; he was fully concentrated but displayed no recognizable emotion. She clapped her hands so enthusiastically at the end, she was afraid she might break something, but the experience was beyond words; she always loved the Swan Lake's music, the dancers did an amazing job and Malfoy, being who he was, arranged them to sit in the best seats.

He had then took her to a high society night club, where all the celebrities and atrociously wealthy people attended, wearing their best attires. She walked in hesitantly, immediately feeling as if she did not belong; Malfoy noticed her unease. He linked their arms and leaned to whisper in her ear, "Stand straight and walk proud Granger," and his words encouraged her.

They clicked their glasses of champagne and Hermione took another anxious look around, noticing the many glares she was receiving, feeling yet again uncomfortable. "Calm down, Granger, and enjoy yourself," Malfoy drawled, "You are envied by every single female in the club."

"You're a bit full of yourself," Hermione chuckled, but knew he was right.

"I have every reason to be," he said smugly, looking at her thoughtfully, "Now would you raise the jealousy level, and dance with me?"

She was a bit surprised at the offer, but seeing him towering over her with his hand stretched for her to take, left her very few options and she accepted it with a smile and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. She mentally sighed, now she had to add his amazing dancing skills to the list of his virtues; this list was getting way too long. He was light footed and agile with a good sense of rhythm, and she did not fall behind; her mother forced her to take dance classes when she was younger.

"You're a decent dancer." Malfoy remarked with astonishment, as she managed to keep his pace without much effort.

"Surprised, Malfoy?" she cocked a teasing eyebrow, "Not only high class Purebloods know how to dance."

He frowned, "You know it's not what I meant. You just never appeared to be the dancing type."

"As I said, there are many things yet to learn about me." Hermione replied vaguely.

The music slowed down, and he moved slightly closer to her, close enough for her to feel a sensation she dreaded. "Are you having a good time?" he asked softly, his mouth inches from her ear.

"A great time," she admitted, "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure," he said politely, and scanned the room with his eyes, then returned his gaze to her, "There is not a single woman in this room that equals you, Granger, so if I were you, I would dispose the insecure attitude."

"Don't bullshit me, Malfoy," Hermione retorted, hiding her embarrassment successfully, "I could name at least ten than are much prettier than me, most if not all have more impressive pedigrees-"

"I shell rephrase, then," Malfoy cut her, "There isn't a woman that equals you in any discipline of significance."

"Since when you don't care for looks and status?" Hermione inquired, curious.

"Longer than you think," Malfoy replied, looking pensive, "Even before I discovered of my illness."

"Why didn't you try to contact me earlier?" Hermione asked, almost sadly.

He smiled bitterly, lowering his eyes, "Stupid Malfoy pride I guess," he answered dryly, avoiding her eyes.

"Better late than never," Hermione smiled at him softly, and he pulled her just a little bit closer to him, enough for her to notice how solid his body was. She examined his features, the mysterious grey eyes that were locked on hers, his pointed features and hollow cheeks now even more edgy due to his sickness, the half smile gracing his lips, his pale complexion; she found him very alluring.

A while later he had escorted her to her flat, and she had noticed the masked agony in his expression while they were walking, and her heart flinched at the thought of his cancer. He was a strong man, but he was neither immortal nor untouchable and this illness was taking its toll on him. He was barely standing on his feet when they stopped in the entrance to her building; he was sallow and shaking, looking more miserable than she ever saw him.

"Go." He ordered her, looking away.

"I won't leave you like that," Hermione insisted.

"The idea of you seeing me in this state only makes me sicker," he said in a crooked voice, "I'll be ok. Please leave."

"No. Don't be stupid." Hermione said annoyingly, and stepped forward, taking his hand and Apparating inside her apartment. "You can choose between staying here, or at St. Mungo's. What would it be?"

He mumbled something along the lines of "Insufferable Mudblood", but it only made her chuckle; his words lacked the hatred and venom they once held to really hurt her. She led him to her bedroom, and pointed her wand at him, transfiguring the suit to comfortable pajamas, green ones. He was too exhausted to protest. It worried her even more.

"Relax, Granger, it's not the first time it happens. It will pass." Malfoy said, his voice soaked with pain. He shivered and Hermione casted a warming spell on the room and urged him to get under the covers.

"Is there anything else I could do for you?' She asked anxiously, looking at the poor Malfoy in her bed. This was not how she imagined him in her bed.

"Well," he drawled, giving her a naughty smirk, "You can join me."

She smirked back, and left the room to change into her nightgown and then nonchalantly slid under the blankets, it was her bed after all. "I would never think you'd dare," Malfoy remarked as she lay beside him.

"It's my bed." She said with a shrug, and he shuddered once again, looking sickly. "Turn around," she commanded, poking his arm and he submissively did so, turning his back to her. She could feel his surprise when she pressed her warm body to his back, wrapping an arm around his narrow waist and nestled her face at the crook of his neck, tickled by his unbelievably soft hair. He smelled good too. Her body heat seemed to cease his shivering though her closeness had also caused him to stop breathing, or maybe he just fallen asleep.

She lifted her head slightly to look at his face, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, "Goodnight, Malfoy," she whispered, not waiting for a reply as she assumed he was already asleep.


	8. Lovely Rita

**I'm really grateful for your reviews!**

**Draco is not going to make a miraculous recovery, sorry...**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8 : Lovely Rita<strong>

Hermione woke up with a tiny smile on her lips, which was amazingly unusual since she was not a morning person. She listened to Malfoy's quiet breathing, slow and ordered, like a soporific lullaby, encouraging her to go back to sleep, but she had things she planned on doing. She forced her eyes open to discover her face was now snuggled into Malfoy's chest, his arm flung over her waist lazily, and their bodies pressed together; she could not help but think how it would feel like if they were not dressed.

She escaped his grip and he protested while still asleep, he was gorgeous when he slept. She moved a bang of silvery hair from his face and studied the peaceful features unconsciously leaning down until her lips barely brushed against his soft ones; he would never know. She placed a towel and a toothbrush on the empty space near him and walked to the shower, taking a long bath to wash away her dirty thoughts.

Dressed in a oversized shirt that reached till her mid thigh and her messy hair pulled up in a ponytail she walked to the kitchen and started making breakfast. Caught up in cooking she did not hear him wake up, or taking a shower and only noticed him when she prepared the table and he walked into her living room. In boxers. Only boxers.

His hair was still wet from the shower and his skin glittered with moist and he wore only a black pair of loose boxers; she almost dropped the plates she was holding. Stop staring, she screamed at herself in her mind, but her eyes kept glancing over to his body. He was on the skinny side, he always was, but now it was more extreme since his sickness was weakening him. But he had nicely tuned arms, and well build chest and those abs she could not stop looking at. Being thirty and having a six pack was definitely an achievement; she almost vomited recalling Ron's flaccid stomach when he was only twenty.

"Something distracting you, Granger?" Malfoy asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Cover yourself," Hermione barked nervously, her hands shaking as she pulled the cutlery out of the top drawer.

"Why? I feel just fine." He said casually, seating to the table.

"But I don't." Hermione admitted reluctantly. From a closer view she could see long thin scars on his chest, old injuries from the war, and a faded, almost invisible mark on his left forearm. Could he possibly be any sexier?

"You shared a bed with me," he remarked, smirking, "I like you more when you're not a prude."

"Still an insufferable git." Hermione mumbled and served the food, concentrating on everything but the barely dressed man in front of her. They ate in silence, and she tried to ignore his eyes, especially the way they looked at her when she got up to bring maple; she should have worn something more appropriate.

"That's really good," Malfoy chewed on the pancakes, "I never thought of you as the cook, but since you strongly object having an House Elf…"

"I learned to do it myself," Hermione completed his sentence, "You should try that too, Malfoy. You know, doing things yourself."

"Who said I wasn't doing things myself?" Malfoy countered, seemingly offended, "I don't have an House Elf."

"You don't have House Elves at the manor?" Hermione cried out disbelievingly.

"I don't live in the manor." Malfoy retorted dryly, "I live in a flat not far away from here."

"Why?" Hermione's curiosity awakened.

"Bad memories." Was all Malfoy said, and she figured the rest herself. They finished eating an she started to clear the table, putting a few plates in the sink, and when she was about to turn around and return for the rest of the dishes she bumped into him. He did not seem to care, and extended his arm to place the dishes safely in the sink, cornering her in between his body and the counter top.

She was not breathing, and if she was to continue doing so she would faint. She inhaled, managing only to take a shallow breath, which still caused her chest to press into his. She hesitantly looked up to see him gazing at her with his intense grey orbs, a thoughtful expression on his face; none of them moved. And then she found herself standing on her toes and placing a soft kiss on his lips, and her logical part was horrified as she did so, but the rest of her was content. She started to lower her eyes, embarrassed by his lack of response when she felt a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up.

His lips came crashing on her like a wave would crash on a dock; his hands firmly gripped her, one at the nape and the other on her waist, pulling her body closer to him. She recalled people talking about butterflies in their stomach, even fireworks, but that was entirely different; it felt like someone casted an Expulso inside her. It burned, an actual feeling of fire in her lower stomach and a tingling sensation in the tips of her fingers when her hands roamed his body, contacting the smooth skin.

One of his hands wandered down to her thigh, slightly traveling up under her shirt, causing her to gasp, parting her lips slightly. His tongue invaded her mouth and she enjoy every second of it, tasting her own toothpaste, and her hands were grasping as much of his fine hair as possible. Somehow both of his hands reached to her buttocks, holding it firmly and with an effortless movement he lifted her, placing her on the counter. He placed himself between her parted legs, deepening the kiss even more, and pressing their bodies together.

She moaned when she felt his hard erection rubbing against her core, he moved against her in maddening slow movements; she found her hands on his back side, pulling him further into her. And then after a few moments of the most sensational make out session she had in her life, he pulled away from her, as if her skin burned him.

"Oh fuck," he whispered, taking a step backwards, "Fuck, fuck" he muttered on the verge of hysteria, and then with a loud pop he Disapparated. Hermione screamed in frustration; she could have killed him for leaving her when she was so turned on, what had gotten into him?

She paced nervously in a flat, then decided to take another shower to cool down. She was still upset when she left the steamy room, and grabbed a piece of parchment, writing 'Am I such a horrible kisser?'. She knew it was lame, she knew she was pathetic, but she had not experienced feeling so many confusing emotions in a very long time. Just when she sent away her owl, she heard a loud pop and turned around wildly, wishing, and fearing at the same time, it was Malfoy.

"Have you seen it?" Ginny exclaimed, holding a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand. Hermione sighed in disappointment and grabbed the paper, eyes widening as she read through. A picture of Malfoy and her dancing was on the front cover; they did look really good together, she found herself thinking. The rest of the article was a long list of slanders, about Hermione being fame hungry and obsessed with dating famous men, and how she toyed both McLaggen and Malfoy. Unsurprisingly the article was written by Rite Skeeter.

"Now I've seen it." Hermione replied tiredly.

"It does look like more than a friendly hangout," Ginny said diplomatically, fearing Hermione's reaction. Hermione said nothing, she was too confused herself. "He took you to the 'Ici Paris', Hermione," Ginny added.

"I don't really understand what the big deal is." Hermione replied truthfully.

"As long as you were going to Muggle museums and walks in the park, it might look innocent and you could keep it low profile," Ginny explained, "But going to that club, where all the rich and famous show off how rich and famous they really are, flaunting their wives and jewelry… that's a different story."

"What I'm saying is…" Ginny paused, "Maybe he wanted it to happen."

"I doubt that." Hermione said bitterly.

"Something happened?" Ginny inquired, her sharp senses as investigator take control.

"If you consider the most dazzling make out session I ever had 'something', then it happened." Hermione confused.

Ginny gasped. "And?"

"And then he pulled away, started cursing, and Disapparated." Hermione told her dryly, just as her owl returned with a answer. She could not help but smile a little when she read it. Ginny looked at her questioningly, "I Owled him earlier, asking if I was such a lousy kisser."

Ginny giggled , "What he did he write?"

"You're amazing." Hermione read the letter with a smile.

"He just panicked." Ginny said reasonably, "It's not the easiest thing to digest for him, after taunting you for so many years, that he had fallen for you."

"I hope you're right." Hermione said quietly, "Because I think I've hopelessly, pathetically fallen for him."

Ginny smiled at her softly, "After all these years, you're in love again." Ginny said happily, "I was seriously starting to worry you're going to be alone for the rest of your life."

Hermione smiled back, perfectly masking the pain she felt; she was going to live a lonely life because Malfoy would not stick around for much longer. The door bell rang and Hermione rushed to the door, taking a deep, calming breath as she saw Malfoy standing outside of her flat.

"I must leave now," Ginny gave her a meaningful smile "The kids, you know…" she made an excuse, and walked out the door, giving Malfoy a polite nod.

"Are you going to come in, or do you prefer to stand at my doorstep?" Hermione asked slightly irritated as Malfoy stood frozen, like a deer in the headlight.

"I… don't know." He stuttered, his eyes darting frantically, looking anywhere but at her. She groaned in frustration and pulled him in by his hand, closing the door behind them and walking into her living room.

"I came to say I'm sorry." He finally uttered after an unbearably long silence.

"About what?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"About what happened at your kitchen," he replied, eyes lowered to the wooden floor.

"Why? We had a lovely breakfast." Hermione outsmarted, angry at him.

"You know what I'm talking about." He stared right at her, utterly serious.

"I do." Hermione admitted, "I just don't seem to understand why you are apologizing."

"Listen Granger," Malfoy said, sounding annoyed, "This, us…it's not going to happen."

It felt worst than Bellatrix's Cruciatus, worst than finding Ron cheating with Lavender, worst than her parents dying. Hermione closed her eyes momentarily, biting her lower lip; she could cry later, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. "Fine." She shrugged, appearing casual.

Malfoy was about to say something, but when he realized what she had said, he stopped. She imagined he had some sort of speech prepared with many excuses but she saved him the effort. "You're not going to argue? Or ask why?" he asked in a weak voice.

"No." Hermione said lightly, mustering every bit of self control she had to keep her composure.

He looked at her with disbelief, studying her features closely, "I was under the impression you had feelings for me."

"I do." She said very quietly.

"So why are you so indifferent?" Malfoy inquired, running a hand trough his hair nervously.

"What would I gain from making a scene, Malfoy?" Hermione said coldly, "Except from losing the last shreds of dignity I have." She gave him a very dark stare. "You got what you wanted Malfoy; your malicious plan was successful and you tricked me into falling for you. I seriously doubt you are dying, your kind of evil is eternal."

His jaw dropped and for a moment he looked dumb, and Malfoys never look dumb. "You got this whole thing wrong, Granger." He said in an almost panicked voice, "I'm doing it to prevent you from being hurt."

"How is that?" her voice was poisonous.

"By not getting involved with a dying man." Malfoy replied flatly, "I have three, four months top. Do you really think it is wise to get even more attached?" he asked her, and she looked down for the first time, "Granger, if I was selfish I would spend with you every second until they burry me."

If it was possible, she felt even more hurt than before. Knowing that he cared for her was worst than thinking he was just evil; it made losing him seem easier. "But I want it," Hermione said softly, "I don't care our time is limited, I don't care how much I'm going to hurt in the end." She paused, searching for the right words, "Not taking that risk is cowardly, and I, may I remind you, am a Gryffindor." She said firmly.

Malfoy looked at her for what seemed like eternity; his expressions changed thousands of times, he opened his mouth to talk and closed it again without a word, he moved to reach for her and drew back before he touched her. she watched, the anxiety in his face, the hesitation, it was so unlike him. He looked vulnerable and uncertain and lost, and it was beautiful; seeing he was human for the first time. Many thoughts crossed her mind in those long moments of silence, many analyses and estimations, but they were all gone when he kissed her.


	9. With a Little Help from my Friends

**Thanks for all the comments, you're making me so happy!**

**I'm really sorry for occasional spelling/grammar mistakes, I'm really short in time and do not have a Beta reader.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9 : With a Little Help from my Friends<strong>

They lay in her bed, side by side on their backs, after finishing what they had started that morning in the kitchen. "That was good." Hermione panted.

"Good?" Malfoy cocked an eyebrow, "You sounded like it was more than just good to me."

"Arrogant prat," Hermione laughed, "It was brilliant."

"Aye to both." Malfoy replied with a smug smirk.

"Have you seen the Daily Prophet?" Hermione questioned, "We were an item before we knew it."

"And that Skeeter bitch really bushed you." Malfoy said furiously, "She had really crossed the line. I'm sure she regrets it by now." Hermione looked at him questioningly, "I bought the Daily Prophet and fired her," Malfoy replied casually.

Hermione laughed, but it was not a nice, polite laughter, but more like a demonic banter that made Malfoy watch with fear. When she calmed down she turned to him and gave him a long, passionate kiss, "You're my hero, Malfoy." She joked.

"I think you should try using my first name," he suggested, "Considering that we are in a relationship."

"Draco." Hermione said, letting the name roll on her tongue.

"Can you moan when you say it?" he asked her mischievously, rolling on top of her and leaving a trial of kisses down her neck.

"Make me." She whispered seductively in his ear and pulled him down to another kiss.

And then the happiest period of her life began. She made the proper preparations for a two months long vacation; many eyebrows were raised as the head of the department went for such a long period, but she said her reasons were personal and no one dared to question her. She said goodbye to Ginny and Harry who were very suspicious of her actions; for three hours she tried to convince them that she and not married Malfoy secretly.

It all started with a late breakfast at Diagon Alley when Hermione said, "You probably traveled a lot. Was there a place you wanted to go but never had the chance?"

He seemed pensive for a few moments. "I've never been to Africa, except for Egypt," He shared, "And I would like to return as a tourist to many of the places I've worked in."

"Then let's make a list," Hermione offered, "And go there. I can take a vacation."

He looked at her for a moment as if she had gone crazy. Then he smiled. "Hermione the explorer, it suddenly makes perfect sense," Malfoy said with amusement, "A binoculars in one hand, a map in the other, a sexy khaki shorts…."

She laughed at the image he was drawing, and warmness washed over her as she watched the man she adored. "The last destination should be Paris." Malfoy stated, "I want a romantic ending."

Their first destination was Africa indeed; they watched the Kilimanjaro tower over the Serengeti as the sun set over the land, coloring it in many shades of reds and purples, and visited the Pyramids, amazed by the majestic beauty and awed by the strong magical presence.

Then they traveled to Asia, starting with the Holy Land, walking hand in hand in the streets of Jerusalem. Malfoy had tried countless times to convince her to tell him what she wrote in the note she put in the Western Wall, but she did not break.

"Draco, if I tell you, it won't came true." She replied for the hundredth time. He pouted, looking adorable and she could not help but kiss those tempting lips.

"Wow, that is just divine," Hermione said, after swallowing another bit of her food.

"That's Hummus." He replied simply, "A good enough reason to Apparate here when I'm hungry." He told her with a smile and wiped with a napkin a spot of Tehina she had on her cheek.

They continued to stroll in the Old City, looking down at two thousand years old stone, or enchanted by the Dome of the Rock glowing in gold in the sunlight, feeling the ancient powers with every fiber of their bodies.

"And this is where I almost died." Malfoy told her as they walked in the streets of St. Petersburg, gapping at the splendid sight of the Cathedrals.

"You said it in almost every place we've been to so far." Hermione joked.

"Well, this was the scariest time," he admitted, haunted by the memories. She felt his grip on her hand tighten. "One of the Death Eaters had discovered that I was delivering information to the Order; apparently I was a bit tacky in covering it up." He told her, sounding like he still rebuke himself for that mistake, "Fortunately for me, he decided to face me before reporting to the Dark Lord." He paused looking at the Palace square. "We dueled here, imagine how many memories I had to Obliviate."

Hermione smiled at him wryly, and he continued, "The duel wasn't what scared me. On the contrary, dying in that battle could be a blessing if the Dark Lord was informed of my betrayal." Malfoy said darkly, "The most frightening thing was the lack of knowing; was I exposed, or did the secret die with him…"

"What did you do?" Hermione asked, unable to imagine the stress and fear.

"Nothing. I continued like nothing happened, hoping for the best." Malfoy said simply, "Seeing that I did not die, I assumed the dark Lord still consider my loyal."

"Never thought about going into hiding?" Hermione inquired, wondering if she considered it, being in his shoes.

"Every day." He replied with a gloomily smile, "But you were risking your lives daily and I felt like I had to save the little honor the Malfoy name still had."

"But no one knows what you did." She said, confused.

"Few people know, the only ones I care for their opinions," Malfoy replied, "And I know. These are the things that really matter."

She looked at him, and he had that glow around him, the silvery aura around his head; he was amazing, and he was everything she ever looked for. They shared a kiss in the Palace Square, a bond of love and loyalty, in the same place he almost lost his life for traitorous conspiracy.

The beginning of their second month of traveling was spent in China. They walked across the Great Wall of China, Malfoy carrying a backpack and Hermione reading to him from a guiding book, until they could not walk another step. They visited the Forbidden City and Jiuzhaigou valley, their breath taken by the beauty of the places. They continued to Japan and New Zealand, and then west to Europe. As planned, their last days were spent in Paris.

"I don't want to go to the Eiffel tower," Malfoy protested, "It so cliché."

"I love cliché." Hermione declared, linked their arms and led the way to the famous tower, ignoring her partner's loud disapproval. It was the fifty seventh day of their vacation, and it was the only event merely resembling an argument; they got along perfectly.

As expected from a Malfoy, Draco demanded they would stay at the Hotel Ritz at Place Vendome, one of the most luxurious hotels in the world. He practically had to drag her in. "I'm not staying here!" Hermione argued, while Malfoy easily scooped her up and carried her bridal style into the hotel's lobby. "A night here costs more than what I make in month," Hermione whispered as he put her down.

"For you, only the best," he told her softly, placing a kiss on her lips, before addressing the receptionist in fluent French.

The room was so exquisite they never wanted to leave the room; Malfoy was quite content with ordering room service and spending the entire day in bed, participating in acts of affection and passion. But Hermione, being the stubborn woman she was, had dragged them to the Louvre and to Place De La Concorde, Sacré-Cœur Basilica until they were exhausted by the vigorous sightseeing. They walked hand in hand in the Tuileries Gardens when Malfoy had stopped before one of the many magnificent statues and pulled Hermione into a hug.

"You know, it all started in a walk in the park." He smirked at her, his grey eyes caressing her face with his gaze.

"And look where it had gotten us." Hermione replied happily, unable to contain all the positive emotions she was feeling. "Who would imagine?"

"I did, honestly," Malfoy replied in a quiet voice, "I could never come up with a more suitable match for me than you are."

"Me?" Hermione laughed melodically, "The bushy haired Mudblood?"

"No." Malfoy said with a smile, "You, the beautiful, intelligent, independent woman."

Hermione blushed; Malfoy's compliments were rare, but meaningful. "When did you start to see me this way?"

"During the war, though the realization sank after it ended." He confessed.

Hermione looked at him wide eyed, slightly shocked. "Then why didn't you say anything?"

"First of all, you were with the Weasel," Malfoy noted, "Secondly, you hate me at that time; if I told you what I felt, you'd probably laugh at my face and hex me, not necessarily in this order." He remarked dryly and Hermione chuckled, knowing he was right, "And last, I was too proud and immature."

They smiled at each other, radiating genuine happiness, "But now everything's changed," he mentioned, "Weasel is history, and I earned your affection when I took you to a Muggle museum," he smirked at her, "And I guess you can't still be immature when you're dying."

"Yeah, Malfoy, ruin the moment with your dark humor and cynicism," Hermione said bitterly, rolling her eyes. He chuckled at her and raised his hand to cup her cheek, looking at her tenderly.

"I love you, Hermione Granger." He said quietly, his eyes locked on hers. A smile crept back to her face.

"I love you too, Draco." She replied, almost sobbing at the emotional moment, and pulled him down to long, loving kiss, taken straight out of fairy tales.

"You know," he said after they pulled away, and continued to stroll at the gardens, "They should build a monument for me in Hogwarts."

"Why?" Hermione asked, squinting her eyes.

"Since I'm the only Slytherin to get into Hermione Granger's pants; the prude Gryffindor princess." he replied with a mischievous smirk. Hermione smacked his arm not very playfully but he only laughed.

"Obnoxious prat." She muttered, tying to look angry, but she could not help but smile. His face wore a very dangerous expression and he started to back her up against a nearby tree, causing her to feel like prey; she did not mind at all, as long as he was the predator. He was alarmingly close to her, and he back meet the hard wood behind her, he's heading dropping down to whisper at her ear seductively.

"I have an uncontrollable urge to get in your pants this very instant." His husky voice made her shudder and his cool breath on her neck cause a warm sensation in her lower stomach; restating him was a losing battle.

"I might just allow it." She replied with a naughty grin and his grey eyes noticeably darkened with raw lust. A familiar pull at her navel and they were back in their hotel room; his mouth covering hers and his hands roam all over her body. She gave him a forceful push, and he looked at her with shock and hurt.

"We just Disapparated from a Muggle park!" She rebuked him, "They could have seen us! You're thirty and you still think with your-"

Her lecture was cut by a passionate kiss and Malfoy made sure she was out of breath before pulling away. "Only you could be bothered by rule breaking when an insanely handsome man confesses his love to you and kidnaps you to have a lustful, mind blowing sex in a very luxurious hotel room." Malfoy told her softly, with an amused smile, his fingers tracing invisible lines on her cheek and jaw line.

Hermione could not help but smile, when did she start finding his conceited nature so alluring? She promised herself to delve further in thought of that subject, after she was done having her way with a particular blonde. She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him down to another kiss, leading him to their bed and skillfully unbuttoning his shirt; it has been to long since she had since him naked. They had gotten up over twelve hours ago, she smirked wantonly.

They lie in bed, still floating on the euphoric cloud of after climax when he said, "So, tomorrow we go back."

"Unfortunately." She said truthfully, snuggling closer to him.

"I was wondering if you'd like to move in with me." He asked, with the slightest trail of uncertainty in his voice. She raised her head and looked at him, surprised but not much so; they were both thirty and they were dating for a few months. She planted a soft kiss on his lips.

"I'd like that." She said smiling, almost beaming.

"Good. I won't have to pay for nursing care." He said with a taunting smirk that granted him a well-earned kick in his shin.


End file.
